


Crimson Roses

by RavenGilbertVA



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animatronics, Chloroform, Gen, Light Angst, Lowkey just fnaf fanfiction, M/M, Murder, Mutual Pining, but in a murdery way, did i make this for an ap english assignment maybe, kidnappings, light gore, rose motif, watch op try and make this as non self indulgent as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGilbertVA/pseuds/RavenGilbertVA
Summary: This is highkey just a practice version for another project that's actually fnaf fanfic. Anyways.
Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	Crimson Roses

Another morning.

They always go by so painfully slow. It’s always so…

Quiet.

But never quiet enough. The faint buzz of LEDs coming from the break room, the near silent chittering of critters in the walls. A wave of uneasiness swept over me as I waited for the first wave of customers.

And then finally, the jingling sound of the bells placed on the door. I mentally prepare myself to greet someone, a passing traveler, maybe one of our regulars, but I stop myself from speaking, just for a moment.

I don’t even have to look up to tell, the heavy, sudden aroma of roses immediately gave away who it was.

“Vince, you’re early today.”

Vincent Miller, my smug bastard of a co- worker, and really my only friend at this dingy little diner near the edge of town.

He returned the greeting with a small nod and proceeded to come lean on the desk beside me. As per usual, we get to talking. Nothing important, just idle chatter and jokes.

Until we get onto a certain topic.

The disappearances.

There had been a small string of disappearances in town, the victims having nothing in common— other than all of them visiting this very establishment soon before they vanished

“So, who do you think it is?” Vincent asks me

What?

I tilt my head at him in confusion.

“You know, like who do you think is kidnapping all these people—” he presses.

“I get that Vince, but how the hell could I know, it could be anyone right-?”

He let out a sigh and slumped into the remaining rolling chair, “No, it can’t be anyone Marlow,” he says in an exasperated tone. He moves closer to me, “It could only be someone who works here. All the victims have been staff or regulars, are you really that dense? I thought that was obvious.” 

As he said this, his expression shifted rapidly from playfully amused to something more… cold, or perhaps sinister.

This uncomfortable interaction was gratefully interrupted. A group of customers walked in, a small family of regulars. And soon came another group. And another. I focused on my job greeting patrons and cleaning tables. Things went on as usual until Vincent asked me to fill in for the weekly inventory check, as he was too busy waiting tables.  
As soon as I walk in the room, I notice something very off. The smell was horrible, almost like a dead animal.

Actually, just like a dead animal.

It was strange, I had noticed the same smell coming from one of the animatronics we had at the entrance. Definitely not as strong as this though. And there was something else… off about it.  
I look down to the bottom shelf on the back wall. Ugh, someone spilled the soda syrup. It was a reddish brown, semi dried 

…Is that blood?

I finally realize where that smell was coming from. A spare rabbit mascot in the corner left of the supply cabinet. 

It had stains on it, the same as the ones on the floor.

As I was getting closer, the stench intensified. It was coming from inside the suit.

I fell backwards, thankfully not into the blood. I heard a small crash of something falling beside me. The smell in the room was becoming suffocating. I got up to leave, my legs shaking. I make it back out to the front desk. One of the part-timers was there, probably trying to cover for me. I tell him he can leave, and I sit back down in the rolling chair. Thankfully, the restaurant was currently at capacity. No tables available, no one to seat. I took a moment to calm myself down

Or would have, if Vincent hadn’t decided at that moment to have his break. Ever observant, he noticed that I was ‘acting weird’. I don’t know why, but I decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell him what I had just seen. I’m also a terrible liar. I told him, he paused for a moment, and then asked me if I was ok. I thought it was a bit of a strange response, coming from someone whose friend just told him that he might have seen evidence of a murder. Throughout the whole conversation he just seemed to be… detached. He sounded sincere while trying to comfort me, but something was still wrong.

I know that trying to hide what had happened would only make things worse, but I still needed some time to process what I had seen, and who might have done it.

My shift finally ended. I grab my bag and head for the door, for once I’m glad to go back to my cramped apartment.

“Marlow.”

I hear a voice from behind me.

“Vince?” I turn, trying to avoid eye contact

“You forgot this.” 

He hands me the small notepad I keep my daily journal in.

“Ah– thank you” 

“And just—” he pauses to grab my hand, “Just be safe, alright?” 

He sounded sincere; he didn’t have the same ‘off’ feeling like earlier. I automatically squeeze his hand back, “I will… thank you,” I give him a small smile.

“See you Monday?” I ask.

“Yeah. Probably.”

What?  
Probably?  
What did he mean by ‘probably’?

I try to push down my doubt and write it off as paranoia. ‘Probably’?

Finally, home, I walk through the door, kicking off my shoes and tossing my bag in its usual spot, and went to flop on to my mattress.

I stare up at the ceiling for hours, lost in thought

And then it clicked.

The ‘something off’ that I had noticed in the storage room.

It was the smell. That smell lingering behind the stench of rotting flesh.

Roses.

It would have made sense, since Vincent was usually the one in charge of inventory in the back rooms, but it's been a week since he last stocked the back room. Perfume doesn’t linger that long, let alone over the scent of a decaying corpse.

That’s why he was acting so strange when I told him. Was he thinking about what to do with me?

A part of me was still in denial, I didn’t think it could possibly be him; and yet all the evidence leads to him. A cold pit begins to form in my stomach. I’m in charge of unlocking the doors on Monday. I’ll be completely alone. Vulnerable.

Wait, why am I even considering going back in there with that body?

Even more doubt spread across me, I was such an idiot for not saying anything, a coward, a failure. He was right, I really am that dense.

And yet, I decided I would go on Monday. I considered going to the police, but how would I explain when I found the body?

My weekend was a constant, lingering paranoia, waiting for something to happen. Then finally, it was Monday. My denial had grown over the past two days, however. I convinced myself that if I saw Vincent, I could just walk up and try and negotiate with him; negotiate with a murderer.

I had begun my walk to the diner, I considered turning back at least three separate times, but my brain remained on autopilot. I only vaguely realized I was at the diner as I tripped over one of the two parking barriers. I stopped to breath looking up at the building, the diners name in bold, red lettering, still glowing despite the early morning light. I take a step closer, and then another. I take a few more steps, each one I anticipated to be my last; yet I reached the front of the building, still only semi aware of my surroundings. I reach to my jacket pocket for the keys, when I hear quiet, rapid footsteps from behind me. 

It was only a second after I had heard them that a cloth was forced over my nose and mouth, the strong chemical scent enveloping my senses, burning my eyes so much that tears began to well up. Over all the chemical smells, I recognize that same heavy aroma that I had smelled countless times before.

Roses.


End file.
